


For Once, Could You Tell Me the Truth?

by theatergirl06



Series: Snapshots of The First Ones. [2]
Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Angst angst angst!, Aralyn rights!, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23660299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theatergirl06/pseuds/theatergirl06
Summary: After a magical night, two queens are left wondering if it was all a fantasy.
Relationships: Anne Boleyn/Catherine of Aragon
Series: Snapshots of The First Ones. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701961
Comments: 5
Kudos: 88





	For Once, Could You Tell Me the Truth?

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings:  
> Mentions of blood, swords, and beheading, swearing.

It had been a week since Anne Boleyn had made out with Catherine of Aragon on a snowy rooftop. She’d been tipsy and freezing, and yet it had been one of the most wonderful and memorable nights of her life. She hadn’t really known she’d had feelings for Catherine until she’d seen a hint that Catherine might have feelings for her, and in that moment, everything had become clear. She’d felt such elation that night, such a sense of pure happiness. Everything had felt so...right. 

In the week since, it had all gone completely wrong. 

Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration.

Nothing had gone specifically  _ wrong _ , but it was far from perfect.

Catherine and Anne had not spoken one word about the night on the rooftop since Kat and Jane had found them and let them in, shivering, from the cold. They’d avoided each other, avoided eye contact, avoided everything. 

Of course, the other queens had noticed. When Jane went to Aragon’s room and was in there for five hours on Monday, Anne could only assume she was trying to coax out of Catherine what had made her hard exterior even harder than usual. Afterwards, through brief conversation, Anne had been able to gather that Jane had no idea what had happened that Saturday night. 

On Tuesday, Kat had cornered Anne in her room and asked her why she and Catherine were even angrier at one another than usual. Anne had taken three minutes to assure her that they weren’t fighting, and three hours to even partly convince her that their extra boundaries were just luck. 

On Wednesday, Anne spotted Catherine and Cathy deep in conversation next to two steaming mugs (coffee, Anne assumed, seeing as Cathy never drank anything else) and an enormous stack of books. Anne had hidden behind a giant potted plant and listened to their conversation. Catherine had spoken minimally when Cathy had asked her about her and Anne, and basically shut down the writer’s questions as quickly as possible. 

On Thursday, Anna and Anne made a project of trying to repaint every queen’s sneakers. While they were doing that, Anna had asked her about her and Catherine. Frustrated and guilty, Anne had sighed and snapped at Anna to go away, that nothing was wrong. 

If Catherine was embarrassed for some reason about what had happened last Saturday, Anne was going to respect her wishes and keep it a secret. 

She just wished she didn’t have to.

Why was Catherine embarrassed to talk about what had happened?

Was it Anne?

Had she done something wrong?

By Friday, Anne was so upset and annoyed that she didn’t even want to leave her room. She didn’t want to get out of bed. 

Unfortunately, her optimistic, bubbly, extroverted cousin had other plans. Kat bounced into her room at an hour far too early for Anne’s liking (it was 10AM, but to Anne it felt like she’d only just fallen asleep), and sat directly on her older cousin’s chest.

“Mmph. What the hell, Kat?!”

“We’re going for brunch! We can go to the Loveboat Diner, and you can get whatever you want, and it’s going to be so much fun!”

“What if I want to sleep.”

“Then you leave me aloooone with all the people who don’t like our brunch choices!”

“That doesn’t sound so bad!”

“Jane won’t let me get French toast with mascarpone and strawberries if you don’t get your chocolate pancakes to make it seem healthier!” Katherine gave her puppy dog eyes. “How could you take away my French toast?”

Anne sighed and sat up, squinting at the bright sunlight. “Fiiiiine. But I need you to back me up on those chocolate pancakes.”

Twenty minutes later, all six queens were walking down to street on the way to their favorite breakfast/brunch/occasionally lunch restaurant, the Loveboat Diner. It didn’t escape Anne’s notice that Catherine did everything in her power to stay as far away from Anne as humanely possible. It hurt her feelings, but she tried her best to put a smile on her face. 

They got to the diner and slid into their usual booth in the back. Anne had to admit the usual routine of ordering drinks brought her some ease. 

“Coffee.”

“Iced coffee with cream.”

“Tea, please.”

“Orange juice.”

“Hot chocolate.”

“Coffee.”

“Cathy, didn’t you already have coffee at home?”

“Yes, but…”

“How many cups?”

“Just two.”

“ _ Just  _ two?!”

“I’ll have a coffee, Mira.”

“No she won’t.”

“I’m having a coffee.”

After that, Mira (their usual waitress), who was all too familiar with the morning coffee debate, smiled and left the table. She was back within minutes to hand out drinks, take food orders, and spark another round of debates.

“I’ll have a ham, cheese, and potato omelet with rye toast and home fries, please.”

“I’d like the birthday special, please.”

“Anne, it’s not your birthday.”

“Mira knows that. I order this every time.”

“You’re tricking them.”

“It’s not trickery, and this is worth it!”

“Chocolate pancakes with sweet cream filling, chocolate chips, whipped cream, hot fudge, rainbow sprinkles, and cherries on top are way too unhealthy to be of any use!”

“Just give me the pancakes, please, Mira.”

“All right, Anne.”

“I guess I’ll have buttermilk pancakes, please.”

“I’ll have bacon cheesy grits with scrambled eggs, white toast, and home fries, please.”

“I’ll have the strawberry stuffed French toast, please.”

“Kat…”

“It’s not as bad as Anne’s!”

“Fine.”

“I guess I’ll have a Belgian waffle, please.”

“Alright, Cathy. Queens, is that all?”

“Yes, Mira, thank you.”

Mira left the table, and the queens began to engage in various one on one conversation. Jane decided to talk to Anne about the cooking shows they’d been watching for the past few weeks, Kat and Cathy started a discussion about racism in the media (the pair often discussed topics like this, and were the most likely to be found at rallies, marches, and the like), and over on the other end of the table, Anne kept an eye on Catherine and Anna, who were talking about a cop show they’d been watching. 

The routine of choosing food and drinks, of normal conversation, of being at the Loveboat, it helped Anne look past what had happened with her and Catherine this past week. Made her see that there was another life beyond this relationship, more in the world. It made her feel hopeful.

And then it all went completely wrong. 

Really this time. 

Of course Mira didn’t mean to cause trouble. She was too sweet to even think of it. But she’d been carrying a lot of plates, and she’d slipped on some spilled coffee. She’d managed to (somehow) quickly get the plates down onto the table, but her elbow caught the edge of Jane’s knife.

It bled.

Anne and Kat had had a hard time with blood since they’d gotten back, but none of the queens had as hard a time with it as Anne. Kat had closed her eyes during her beheading. But Anne had been determined to keep hers open. And now she was suffering the consequences.

She’d been getting better. Really, she had.

But she was tired. She was upset. There was blood. 

That was all it took. 

Visions of a bloody neck, death, swords and destruction filled her head. Her eyes filled with tears. Shouts filled her ears, and made her head hurt. Blood rushed into her face and turned her cheeks bright red. The world blurred and turned on its head. She felt faint.    
Jane was looking at her from across the table. “Anne, love? You okay?”

Anne couldn’t take it anymore. She knocked her coffee mug to the floor and sprinted out of the diner. 

In the alleyway next to the breakfast establishment, Anne slumped against the wall, head spinning, tears pouring down her cheeks. The visions of the sword wouldn’t leave her mind. They stuck there stubbornly, right alongside her feelings about Catherine.    
God, sometimes she hated her brain. And her feelings. 

She looked up and gasped. Henry was standing in front of her, huge and imposing, bloody sword in hand. He swung it at her neck.

She screamed.

She felt two strong hands pushing down on her shoulders, massaging her back. She felt her body go limp, and strong arms catch her and wrap her up, holding her tightly. She squinted, and saw Catherine’s very concerned face above her. Slowly, she felt the visions of blood and swords and murder leaving her head. 

“Anne, are you alright? Are you hurt?” 

In a second, a rage of anger and hurt coursed through the beheaded queen. How  _ dare  _ Catherine do this to her all week and then ask if she was  _ okay _ ?

Anne glared up at the Spanish queen, vision blurry with tears. “What the hell do  _ you  _ care about me?! You  _ never  _ ask me how I feel!”

Catherine looked like she’d been slapped. “Anne, of course I care. Why would you think I don’t care?”

Anne could hardly speak through the sobs that wouldn’t stop coming. “Because…last Saturday...it was, we...it was one of the best nights of my life...and I realized...that I have real feelings for you.” Anne stared up at the first queen, green eyes shining. “I...I thought you felt the same way...but...this week...you’ve ignored me...shut me out...and you’ve made me question everything. I...I don’t deserve that.”

Catherine sighed, and Anne used her arms to prop herself up so that they were both sitting leaning against the wall. “Anne, I…”

“Just shut up! Just SHUT THE FUCK UP, CATHERINE!!”

Silence. The echoes of Anne’s shouts ran out in the alleyway. 

Catherine leaned harder against the wall. The energy seemed to drain out of her face. And even though Anne was furious at her, she couldn’t help but think the Spanish queen was absolutely gorgeous.

“Anne, I…” she seemed at a complete loss for words. “The reason I avoided you this week was because I couldn’t believe what happened on the roof was real. You’re, well...amazing. You’re unique and funny and kind and...radiant. I never thought you’d ever want to date someone like me. I thought it was a one time thing. I was too scared to find out if I was right.”

Anne felt all the sadness and worry drain out of her. “So that gave you the right to ignore me?”

Catherine sighed. “No, Anne, it didn’t, and I’m sorry. But after a while, my brain convinced me that you were ignoring me, too. I was convinced you wanted nothing to do with me. I know it’s stupid, but,” Anne was shocked to see that Catherine was blushing, “it’s what happened.”

Anne wasn’t sure what to say, but she found that laughter came out of her mouth instead of words. “Wow,” she said through the laughs, “we really  _ are  _ terrible at communication.”

Catherine smiled tentatively. “I suppose we are.”

Anne felt her thoughts hover for a moment, in that space between an idea and a decision. Just like the night on the rooftop, she took a leap of faith. “Well then, I suppose we’d better get a bit more used to communicating. I’ll start.” She breathed deeply. “Catherine of Aragon, I really like you. You’re amazing and strong and smart and gorgeous. You have the most beautiful eyes, but mostly I want to be with you because I know you’ll always support and care and love with all of your heart.” She looked into Catherine’s dark eyes. “That’s not a kind of person you see every day.”

Catherine smiled. Anne reached over and squeezed her hand. “Alright, Anne Boleyn, I see your plan. Fine, I’ll play along. I like you too. You’re witty and talented and unique and fun and compassionate, and I know I’ll never know anyone else like you. I really want to see what being with you is like. I’m not sure, but I know two things. I know I’ll never forget it. And I know I’ll love it.”

Anne smiled. “Wow, we’re getting the hang of this.”

A smirk flickered over Catherine’s lips. “I still think we can go one step further.”

Anne felt a grin spread across her face. She saw Catherine’s eyes light up.

And then they were kissing. No drunken haze this time, this was warm and soft and loving and real.    
Catherine smiled. “You smell like chocolate.”

“Mmmhm, you smell like coffee.”

Catherine’s lips were soft on Anne’s. They left a tingly feeling on her mouth when she let go. She kissed her again, warmer and more passionately with each second. 

She’d thought last Saturday was the best night of her life. 

She’d been wrong.

This was a million times better. 


End file.
